


Hunger

by Havokftw



Series: I used to be indecisive, now I'm not sure. [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Knotting, M/M, Omega Jihoon, Seungcheol goes into Rut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 11:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/pseuds/Havokftw
Summary: The first indication Seungcheol has that he might be going into rut is when he tries to kill Mingyu over a game of Uno.Part 2 of Jicheol ABO Series, where Jihoon offers to help Seungcheol out with his 'Rut', but it's a little more complicated than that.





	Hunger

Jihoon is an assertive, new age, independent Omega—who doesn’t need an Alpha in his life.

All his life he’s been told he’s going to have to work extra special hard to get an Alpha interested in him.

And what for? So he can roll over, stick out his ass and beg to be bred?

No thanks.

The stubborn adherence to tradition just doesn't track with logic. Not Jihoon’s logic anyway.

Jihoon is going places. He’s a musical prodigy and he’s got his life all planned out and there isn’t a whiff of an Alpha in it.

He just wants you to know that, before you start getting all _judgy_ - _judgy_.

* * *

 

Seungcheol has been helping him out during his heats, and the sex is good.

Better than good, actually. If pressed, Jihoon would probably have to admit that it’s the best sex of his life, fierce and urgent and spine-meltingly hot.

Seungcheol knows Jihoon’s heats dangerously well at this point, can persuade Jihoon’s body to betray him with nothing more than a well-practiced twist of his wrist or a scrape of sharp teeth in the hollow of Jihoon’s throat.

So the sex during his heats is pretty much spectacular; it’s far and away the easiest part of his interactions with Seungcheol.

That’s never been the problem. Not that there _is_ a problem.

Outside of Jihoon’s heats, away from Seungcheol’s bed—they’re good friends. That’s it.

It's an easy enough balance to maintain, and Jihoon's got plenty of worries far more urgent than this.

(He’s got two full years of college left, he needs to find a new roommate for next year when he moves out of the dorm, and then there’s the ever growing mountain of student debt.)

Not that there _is_ anything to worry about. Remember—there isn’t a problem.

Except somewhere between his second and third heat, _something_ changes.

Jihoon starts feeling possessive, jealous, and needy; things he hasn’t felt before.

There's no decisive moment to push Jihoon over the edge. There's only Seungcheol, dragging him farther and farther into his orbit, tangling him up inside and throwing Jihoon steadily off his stride.

The dreams should maybe surprise him, but they don't. It's not rocket science to work out why suddenly he keeps waking up riled and overheated in the middle of the goddamn night. It's even worse when he can remember the dreams clearly, because then he can't stop thinking about the fierce hazel of Seungcheol's eyes or the strength in his hands.

Those moments—when he wakes up hot and hard in the stifling darkness—are the worst, because all Jihoon wants is to call Seungcheol, invite him over and ask him to goddamn  _do_  something about it.

Instead he lies there in the claustrophobic darkness, waiting in mute frustration for his hard-on to subside, every fucking time.

He never planned for this, so it must be temporary. He keeps waiting for something to happen, for one of them to slip up, for Seungcheol to say he’s found somebody he wants to date and can’t take care of Jihoon anymore.

It doesn’t happen.

They hang out, they meet for coffee, they even study together sometimes and they’re definitely closer than they’ve ever been before. Which is understandable when you’ve licked each others intimate areas, heat pheromones or no.

The harder he tries to bury what he’s feeling, the deeper it gets and soon he can’t help but feel a sharp spike of jealousy whenever he sees Seungcheol interact with another Omega. Even an Omega Jihoon is _friendly_ with.

He thinks about rubbing himself up against Seungcheol while half-listening to Soonyoung tell a joke over lunch one day. A large group of them are gathered and Seungcheol is sharing a table with Jun and Soonyoung and Minghao—but all Jihoon can think of is…

_‘Did Minghao just steal one of Seungcheol’s fry’s? That little slut!’_

It’s ridiculous.

Just because Seungcheol is eager and willing to help him out during his heats, doesn’t mean Jihoon has a right over him, has the right to ask Seungcheol to start _dating_ him. To claim him.

Suddenly it’s not just a good fuck during his heat he wants; suddenly Jihoon wants the _whole package_ and no amount of willful denial can put the unwanted secret back in its box.

Honestly, he doesn’t know why it’s on his mind. Why now, after everything, after all they’ve been doing, this is what he wants to happen. It’s lunacy, pure and simple.

This thing between them, whatever it may be, is tentative at best.

He knows its irrational to be jealous when he sees Seungcheol laugh or chat with Jisoo. He knows it’s insanity when he wants to walk over to them, and claw the other Omega’s eyes out.

It’s definitely inappropriate to want to rub himself all over Seungcheol in public, to rip open Seungcheol’s shirt and rub his face against him, taste him and inhale him and swallow up as much of his scent as he can. Just to get the message across: _fuck off—he’s taken._

He can’t do that, because— _he’s an assertive, new age, independent Omega who doesn’t need an Alpha in his life._

So instead, he desires Seungcheol from a safe distance, wondering and wanting and thinking in useless circles as the sun rises and sets and the course of time tests his patience.

It’s fine.

He doesn't try to be discreet about it. Jihoon could never dissemble for shit where Seungcheol is involved. What's the point of trying to be surreptitious when it will just clue Seungcheol in to the fact that he has something to hide?

Besides, Seungcheol is always watching him right back. Jihoon realizes with a jolt that this isn't a new thing. Seungcheol has _always_ been watching Jihoon with exclusive attention, rapt and protective, and Jihoon thinks he must be an idiot not to have realized that it's more than just a friend keeping an eye on him. 

It’s true that Alpha’s remain protective over anything they fuck, and Jihoon has no shame in lingering in Seungcheol’s protective circle when they’re in public—but the weight of Seungcheol’s gaze is _heavier_ than that, and now that Jihoon's paying attention he feels warm gratitude and something closer to a bond settle low in his chest.

He wishes he has the balls to have the conversation they need to have.

Then again—he’s not sure _he’s_ the one who has to start it. He’s never been one to follow tradition, but isn’t the Alpha supposed to take the first step? Seungcheol's the one who’s going to do the ‘biting’ thingy and make the claim and yeah.....he’s getting _way_ ahead of himself here.

They’re not even dating. For all he knows—they’re not even _exclusive._

_FUCK._

 

* * *

 

Seungcheol has always believed that, when he finally manages to talk (coerce/bribe/lure/seduce/beg) Jihoon into becoming his go-to heat buddy, it will be a shallow affair kept to the confines of the bedroom.

Jihoon is an ‘assertive whatchya ma call it’ Omega after all, and he’s made it pretty clear to Seungcheol from the beginning that this is just sex. He doesn’t want a clingy Alpha impressing his scent all over him and marking his territory.

And that’s fine.....S _orta_.

Seungcheol wants more. But it’s worth it, being Jihoon’s dirty little secret, if it gives him the privilege of throwing those milky legs over his shoulder and sucking bruises into smooth skin every other month.

So he continues to help Jihoon out with his heat cycle; falling into bed with his eyes wide open and his hopes and dreams tightly leashed.

It quickly becomes apparent, however, that his precious puddin has different plans entirely.

Jihoon _changes_ towards him--even if he tries to hide it.

The small touches start up the morning following his second heat, with a kiss pressed to Seungcheol’s forehead as he wakes up draped over Jihoon’s sleep-warm body. Turns out, a sleepy Jihoon is shockingly, delightfully affectionate. He even cuddles. (Seungcheol has proof)

He attributes Jihoon’s surprisingly tender actions to the lingering flush of pheromones, something that will be buried underneath professionalism and adorable scowls when they come up for air.

Seungcheol thinks, for sure, he’ll see Jihoon revert back to his stand-offish self of old. Jihoon will never want their relationship flaunted in front of their friends. It would go against everything he stands for as an ‘New age international Omega’ or whatever the hell he calls it.

Wrong, again.

The next time they hang out together with their mutual friends is an experience in shock and awe.

They’re out celebrating Seungkwan’s Birthday in a nearby bar, when Jihoon walks up to where Seungcheol’s seated speaking to Jisoo and Soonyoung, and says. “Hey—is this seat taken?”—then _sits_ on Seungcheol’s lap.  

Jisoo’s eye budge out of his skull and Soonyoung babbles witlessly at the sight of it. It’s just so _unexpected._

It’s a good thing Jihoon’s a tiny thing, cause he spends the rest of the night on Seungcheol’s lap—staring Jisoo down with a challenging scowl.

That night, Seungcheol’s phone blows up with texts from Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and the handful of people in college he considers close friends.

 

 

Boo  
  
Jisoo told me that Jihoon gave him the dirtiest look ever just because he was talking to you and also that Jihoon sat on your lap? ◉_◉ All night?

Soonyoung  
  
I’m going to assume somebody drugged Jihoon’s drink tonight. Either that, or I imagined him sitting on your lap. ಠ_ಠ Which is it? Fess up!

Jun  
  
What's going on between you and Jihoon? (~_^) 

Seungcheol doesn’t know how to reply to any of those messages. Part of him wants to celebrate, call his parents and tell them the great news and the other part tells him not to overthink that.

Jihoon doesn’t want to date him. There probably weren’t many seats available and Jihoon _did_ have a lot to drink that night.

That makes more sense.

But then it continues.

When they’re studying together in the library, Jihoon positions their chairs together. He touches Seungcheol, knees pressed under the desk, the brush of a palm along his arms.

Seungcheol thinks Jihoon has quite a thing for his arms. He probably shouldn’t be taking advantage of that and flexing unnecessarily when he’s writing out his notes.  

Even when they are in public together, Jihoon ignores all concepts of personal space. Plasters himself against Seungcheol’s side when they meet for coffee. Stands in Seungcheol’s protective circle when there’s another Alpha about. Even forcefully moves people that get between them on the train and nuzzles the top of his head under Seungcheol’s chin.

Turns out, his precious puddin, is a possessive puddin, but Seungcheol can’t even pretend to mind. He loves every fucking minute of it.

On those rare times that Seungcheol isn’t in touching range, he can feel the weight of Jihoon’s territorial stare. Of course, he’s staring right back—he always has.

They end up catching each other out more often than not, their eyes locking longer than they should when one glances up and finds the other staring. Seungcheol always fights to keep his expression neutral, because the alternative is an inviting smile or an outright leer that he's pretty sure will only make Jihoon scoff or maybe even send him running.

Jihoon always blushes bright red and looks guiltily away, anyway.

A dozen times Seungcheol almost says something instead of letting it drop. He could be at Jihoon's side in seconds, could touch him and kiss him and do all those things Alpha’s do for their Omega’s, but something stops him.

It's not fear. Nothing but an instinct telling him that the time isn't right, that Jihoon's not ready, that whatever this is between them, it needs more time to grow and settle.

So Seungcheol keeps watching, filing every thought and daydream away for later. Storing up the urge to lick the water dripping down Jihoon's nose when they get caught out in the rain, or to shove him against the bookshelves in the library when he watches him stand on his toes to reach a book, or to sink his teeth into that pale neck and…

"Dude,  _what_?" Jihoon asks him suddenly, annoyed and off balance from catching Seungcheol staring yet again.

"You’ve got a smudge of ink on your nose," says Seungcheol, and smiles a small, secret smile that he knows will drive Jihoon nuts. He reaches over to pretend to wipe it, and then flicks Jihoon on the forehead instead. "Got it."

Jihoon swears and throws a book at Seungcheol's head, and Seungcheol laughs as they’re both kicked out of the library.

* * *

 

The first indication Seungcheol has that he might be going into rut is when he tries to kill Mingyu over a game of Uno.

Now, you might argue that Uno brings out the worst in everyone, and has been responsible from the date of its creation for the destruction of many a friendship. But Seungcheol has never won a game of Uno in his life and he’s never tried to kill anybody over it before.

He and the other Alpha get along like a house on fire usually, and the disagreement is hardly one at all; a ‘collect 4’ card Mingyu plays just before it’s Seungcheol’s turn.

Only... it’s the look of smug satisfaction on Mingyu's face before he plays the card; that fucking eyesore shade of neon orange he’s dyed his hair, the way he habitually cooks all the food in the fridge as soon as Seungcheol buys it, the way he leaves towels lying around, the fact that he’s taller, the way he talks,  _breaths_  ....

“Ahh—Cheol dude. It’s not your lucky day. Please skip a turn.” Mingyu laughs, placing another card on the deck.

That’s fucking it.

Seungcheol shoves Wonwoo aside, sending the young beta sprawling. Reaching Mingyu, he grabs him by the front of his t-shirt and clocks him in the jaw. Mingyu falls stunned to the ground and Seungcheol grins with the greatest satisfaction when the younger Alpha thrusts out his stomach and whimpers. Surrendering to Seungcheol, the superior Alpha.

Vernon comes rushing out of the bathroom during the commotion, takes one look at Seungcheol, and slowly,  _slowly_  backs away.

Smart move.

“Seungcheol—what the hell dude?” Wonwoo gasps. The Beta is still on the ground, looking up at him, eyes wide.

That pisses Seungcheol off, too.

Wonwoo and Mingyu have been cheating all fucking day! They’ve been working together to make sure Seungcheol has lost the last three rounds.

Someone ought to teach Wonwoo some manners.

Snarling and cracking his neck from side to side, Seungcheol strides towards him.

"Cheol!”

He turns to see Jihoon standing at the doorway to the kitchen, a can of cola in his hands and a look of shock on his face.

Seungcheol snaps out of it then, coming to his senses. He glances around the room numbly to find everyone radiating fear and apprehension.

Mingyu’s staring at him from the floor, a knowing, pitying look in his eyes. “Hyung—are you?”

"Aw hell," Seungcheol says.

 

* * *

 

Seungcheol puts as much distance between himself and the others as he can, scurrying out of the room before anyone can say or confirm anything.

He’s a month early, though to be fair his twice-a-year cycle has never run like clockwork. Some Alphas can set their watches to the hour. _His_ body, unfortunately, remains unpredictable.

He’s holed up in his room, checking his emergency supplies. He bought a new set of restraints after his last rut, after he woke up to find them torn to shreds with only one cuff left keeping him in place.

That was a close call. Too close.

If he were caught running amok in rut while in the city they might chop off his balls  _and_  lobotomize him, depending on the amount of damage he'd caused.

Someone knocks on the door, startling him so badly he nearly falls off the bed.

"Yes?" he snaps, pacing over to jerk the door open.

It’s Jihoon, who pushes the door open and strolls in, cool as you please.

“Jesus Cheol—It’s just a game of Uno. Don’t get so bent out of shape over it.” Jihoon mumbles.

Ire flashes though Seungcheol, followed by a low thrum of arousal as Jihoon more or less forces his way into his room and sits primly on the edge of his desk, sipping his coke.

The Omega effect.

When the worst of the rut hits, Seungcheol will fight to death any other Alpha. Betas like Wonwoo, Soonyoung and Jun don't really pose a threat. _Omegas,_ he simply wants to fuck, whether they are accommodating or not.

“If it makes you feel any better, Mingyu and Wonu have been cheating all night. I was cheating too. Everyone I _know_ cheats at Uno, except you. You might be the only person I know who plays honest Uno.” Jihoon laughs.

Seungcheol groans as he flops back on his bed, draping an arm over his face, determined to ignore Jihoon’s delicious scent as best he can. “I don’t give a shit about the game, Jihoon.”

“Well—of course you would say that—you were losing.” Jihoon teases.

Seungcheol is surprised to feel the bed dip beside him, and more so when he feels Jihoon settle against his side, pressing a warm cheek to Seungcheol’s shoulder in something that feels a whole lot like snuggling. Seungcheol cautiously lowers his arm so he can look down at the Omega, and finds Jihoon watching him with wide, concerned eyes. “What’s wrong Cheol?” Jihoon asks, and his voice and face are matching tones of intense sincerity.

“It’s my rut—I’m due.” Seungcheol says.

Jihoon sits up slowly, quiet caution in the movement. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So, “ Seungcheol shuffles deliberately to the side and gestures to the door. “you need to leave.”

“Are you kicking me out of your room?” Jihoon asks, a tad dryly.

“No!” Seungcheol chokes. That's the last thing he wants, but the alternative doesn't bare thinking about. “I’m—asking you to leave, for your own safety.”

Jihoon snorts indelicately. “Why? Are you gonna punch me too?”

“No!—I just think it’s probably best you’re not here when this shit show starts.” He says, wringing his hands through his hair in frustration.

 “You don’t sound too excited about it.” Jihoon asks. He has dropped some of the blank veneer. He sounds genuinely perplexed now.

Seungcheol turns and finds Jihoon watching him with wary eyes, and wishes he didn't have to explain the monster he’s about to become.

“Why would I be? It’s awful. You know what your heat is like—now take all the fun out of it and add memory loss and violence. That’s an Alpha’s rut.”

Jihoon flounders for a few blinks. “Memory loss? You mean—you don’t remember all the fun stuff?”

“Sex? No, and it’s not exactly fun either. Unmated Alpha’s can get _pretty_ violent during their rut. Heightened aggressive response. _Possessiveness_. Basically—I’m not fun to be around and then suddenly it’s over and—I’ve _done_ things I can’t remember and people won’t talk to me or hang out with me anymore.”

Jihoon’s gaze is almost pitying “That bad?”

Seungcheol grimaces and nods.

There is an awkward pause before Jihoon clears his throat purposefully. "From what I've read, having a partner who is an omega is supposed to shorten the cycle? Is that true?"

Seungcheol inhales sharply, startled to hear Jihoon's taken a vested interest in rutting habits. “You’ve been reading about— _wait_ , what are you saying?”

“I’m _saying_ —I could help.” Jihoon says it so cheerfully, so  _simply_  that Seungcheol could almost believe it's not what it sounds like—could almost believe it except for the fact that Jihoon’s scent changes and there is arousal and excitement, and there's no way for Seungcheol to mistake  _that_ meaning.

Seungcheol’s on his feet quickly, explaining. “No, you can’t”

Jihoon looks affronted. “Why not? You _help_ me.”

Seungcheol can't help it. He barks out a laugh, bitter and sad. "It’s not the same Jihoon. Haven't you heard about the dangers of Alpha’s in full rut?"

Jihoon shrugs his shoulders. "Not really, but I’ve been reading up on things since my first heat surprised me, and I’m ready to— _yanno_ —”. He trails off, his point conveyed well enough.

Seungcheol can’t believe what he’s hearing. He’s only shared a rut with someone one other time, during his 5th or 6th rut and back when he was stupid enough not to know better.

He relies on restrains now, and a solid 24 hours of wanking after.

Oh—god. _The chafing._

But to share his rut with Jihoon, who Seungcheol has  _wanted_ from the first day he met him, Seungcheol can't decide if it’s Christmas come early, or his worst nightmare.

“You’re sweet. But you don’t get it. Heat is fun for both parties. A rut is fun for one person—who can’t even remember most of it. You won’t get the same rush of hormones I get when you’re in heat, you’ll just be running on your own steam while I get more horny and aggressive. Only mated Alpha’s can control their aggressive tendencies around their Omega. Suppressants help, but they just take the edge off it. And I’ve never been different with suppressants—or so I’m told.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow as he lifts his chin. “So what’s your plan? You’re gonna find another Omega to help you?” He asks, and it doesn't matter how convincing his poker face is. There's no masking how objectionable he finds the idea.

Seungcheol could laugh at how cute it is—if he wouldn’t also be laughing at his own suffering. “Jihoon—It’s not what you think.” he tries to placate, but judging by the sour expression on Jihoon's face, he’s probably already running scenarios in his mind and coming up with an answer he doesn't like.

“You know what—don’t answer that. I don’t give a shit.” Jihoon spits, and then he’s jumping off the bed in the span of a blink, heading towards the door.

Seungcheol scrambles after him. “No, Jihoon—you're not listening." He grabs Jihoon's wrist to stop him from walking away and because it seems a better idea than simply  _shaking_  him like he suddenly wants to. "I wasn’t planning on--."

"Let go of me," Jihoon says evenly, though there is steel in his voice as he glares at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol drops his grip instantly and steps back, dropping down on the edge of the bed once again. He swallows down the whine working its way up his throat as he watches Jihoon leave.

If Jihoon chooses to ignore him after this—he has nobody but himself to blame. He just wishes for an opportunity to explain himself to the Omega.

The rut isn't just about sex or longing. If Seungcheol gets his hands on Jihoon he’s going to hurt him,  _breed_  him. Over and over again, probably until well after Jihoon is rung out and wishing stop. It won't matter. Nothing else does during the worst of it.

He can’t do that to Jihoon.

* * *

 

Jihoon doesn’t give a shit what Seungcheol does during his rut. Or _who_ he does for that matter.

He reminds himself that they’re not together.

It’s simple. He doesn’t have to complicate it.

On his way back to the dorm, he keeps repeating his mantra in his head.

_‘I’m an independent Omega—I don’t need an Alpha.'_

He shoves open his dorm room door, kicks off his shoes and sprawls dramatically on his bed.

_‘I’m an independent Omega—I don’t need an Alpha.'_

_Damn right!_

His phone buzzes in his back pocket and he rolls over to fish it out, unlocking it with the sloppy swipe of a finger,

There are a few messages from Seungcheol that he swipes away quickly—but they just keep on coming.

Eventually after his phone vibrates for the fifth time, he sighs and opens the message.

 

 

Cheol  
  
Just so you know—I’m not breeding another Omega during my rut.  
I know you said you didn’t care. I’m just letting you know anyway.  
I use restraints. It’s not fun, but then I don’t have to worry about hurting anyone.  
Maybe we can hang out next week when this is over? (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ   
Please don’t be angry with me (；一_一) 

Jihoon feels something like relief flooding into his chest. He considers his reply for a painfully long time. Considering the way he stormed out of Seungcheol's apartment earlier, he doesn't want to reply too cheerfully and appear entitled and possessive. Although he most certainly is, Seungcheol doesn't need to know it.

In the end he decides to remain aloof. Aloof by his standards anyway, which is probably a dead giveaway.

 

 

Cheol  
  
Why would I be angry? (¬_¬)   
  
Like I said dude, I don't care what you do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
  
Fuck another Omega.  
  
Fuck all the Omega's, I don't care¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Seungcheol reply is instantaneous, and there is a video attached.

 

 

Cheol  
  
Yeah. Okay. Suuuureeee. Whatever you say Jihoon (¬‿¬) 

The text makes no sense to Jihoon. That is, until he opens the video and presses play.

 _“Hoonie,”_  Seungcheol says from the screen—he’s lying in his bed, his voice rough from sleep, but his tone is animated, eager. “I know this is some kind of breach of confidentiality—but I just needed irrefutable proof that you are a possessive little shit. Your heat ended like—36 hours ago and look..” Seungcheol tips the phone to the left to demonstrate his point, and Jihoon watches himself come into the frame.

He is stuck to Seungcheol like a fucking barnacle. His arms are coiled possessively around him, one wrapped across his ribs, the other curled under his shoulder. He watches himself snuffle just a little, nestling into the bend of Seungcheol’s neck. His hair is a mess. His expression is guileless, slack with sleep. 

Jihoon flushes with mortification, he barely recognizes himself. His face is nothing but soft, open trust. It’s—

 _“Hoonie—wakey wakey.”_ Seungcheol drawls, tracing a finger down the slope of Jihoon’s nose.

 _“Hnn—no.”_ Jihoon moans.

 _“But your heat is over. You have classes to go to.”_ Seungcheol whispers.

 _“Ssnn—not. Sleep. I love sleep.”_ Jihoon mumbles.

 _“Alright. But let me up—I need to take a piss.”_ Seungcheol tells his sleepy form.

 _“Noooo.”_ Jihoon whines, nuzzling impossibly closer.

Seungcheol chuckles. _“But I need to piss Hoonie.”_ he says, making a weak attempt at untangling Jihoon's arms.

Jihoon whines loudly in protest, clamping his arms around Seungcheol's chest. _“Noo—stay. Mine!”_ he mumbles.

 _“As you can see,”_ Seungcheol says from the screen, stroking a hand through the wild of Jihoon’s hair, looking at the sleepy mess of him like it’s beautiful, “You won’t even let me get out of bed.” Seungcheol glances back up to the camera. _“I bet you’re going to deny this if I ever tell you about it.”_

Video-Jihoon lets out a hideously loud snore then, and Seungcheol laughs. 

 _“You are so cute, so perfect.....I'm so whipped.”_ Seungcheol says quietly, and mostly to himself. He leans over and kisses the dip of Jihoon’s temple just as the recording goes shaky and shuts off.

Jihoon isn’t sure Seungcheol meant for that last part to make it into the video. He can’t stop looking at it, though. The way the final frame rests on a blurry image of Seungcheol pressing his lips to Jihoon’s skin, with Jihoon curling even further into Seungcheol at the touch. It’s—

Jihoon gets up before he lets himself finish that thought.

 

* * *

 

When there’s a knock at the door, Seungcheol’s first thought is that Mingyu’s forgotten something and returned for it. He’s sure it can’t be anybody else because Mingyu would have warned the others off; Mingyu always remembers these things and he wouldn’t forget  _now_ , of all times.

Seungcheol steps up to the door, grasps the handle and looks through the peephole—but it’s clear. Just his fracturing sanity making him hear things.

Then there is a another knock on the door.

Carefully, he cracks the door open and—there is Jihoon, in his customary skinny jeans and a hoodie, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, standing (below peephole level, duh) with a rucksack over both his shoulders.

The sight of him nearly sends Seungcheol leaping out of his skin.

The tiny Omega gives him a cool look up and down and Seungcheol can only imagine how he presents himself; sweating despite the temperature controlled room, dishevelled and flushed. “Hey Cheol.” He chirps.

“Jihoon—what the fuck?” Seungcheol gasps, he starts to swing the door shut, but Jihoon sticks a foot in.

“Uhmm—rude!” Jihoon grumbles, shoving the door open and walking in.

“Jihoon! You can’t be here!” Seungcheol says in disbelief.

“It’s okay. I packed a bag.” Jihoon says, like that explains everything.

“A bag?”

“Yeah—a change of clothes. Some snacks. _Lube_. A pack of cards—not UNO though. I was worried that would bring on some PTSD or something.” Jihoon says, sounding almost cheerful, which would be very heart-warming if Seungcheol’s heart wasn’t about to beat its way out of his chest.

Seungcheol’s palms starts to sweat. He smooths them out on the legs of his joggers, hiding the nervous gesture by pretending to be interested in the view out the far window. Conveniently, that keeps him a few more feet from Jihoon and less likely to want to lock him in here with him, or grab on and not let go. “Jihoon—you really, _really_ can’t be here.”

Jihoon's eyebrows rise in one of those condescending looks he excels at. Seungcheol’s mouth turns dry. “Yeah—but I’m here now so— _what you gonna do?”_ He says, raising his hands in what Seungcheol thinks is a _‘Come at me bro’_ gesture.

“What am I gonna do?” Seungcheol echoes in disbelief.

_Grab him—hold him down—fuck him._

Seungcheol swallows hard at that last thought and deliberately steps back to put distance between himself and Jihoon. "Look—you need to go."

If Jihoon’s concerned, he doesn't show it. "How long do you have?" he asks, stepping fully in the room and closing the door behind him.

"Until I go barking, you mean?” Seungcheol turns away, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Four, five hours at best.”

“Cool!” Jihoon dips his head in acknowledgment, “So we have time to order pizza. I brought a movie.”

Though Seungcheol likes to think he’s had enough continuous exposure to Jihoon to avoid being surprised by anything he says or does anymore, it still takes some time to process this.

“This isn’t a fucking slumber party Jihoon.” Seungcheol explodes, and a secret part of him thrills at the instinctive step back Jihoon takes. Seungcheol recovers quickly, shaking his head and backing away further. “I’m going to fuck your brains out. I’m going to hurt you—why can’t you understand that?”

Then Jihoon sighs, like Seungcheol is being totally unreasonable. “I understand it perfectly. I just don’t care.” He says, a frustrated edge of challenge tinting his voice.

“You’ve helped me with my heats and—I know they’re not bad like this, but I was scared and—confused and you were....really nice to me Cheol.” Seungcheol watches Jihoon trail off into a nervous swallow. Watches as his tries to continue. “I hate the idea of you being by yourself and—suffering through this when you don’t have to. I wanna help.”

Seungcheol whines high in his throat. It _would_ be nice not to come back to himself alone, just this once. And Jihoon is so— _willing_. He could just touch Jihoon again, breathe in the scent of him. Maybe draw some blood — not much, but the smell and the taste would be... _delicious_.

He closes his eyes, trying to remind himself that this is just the by-product of his body pumping in hysterical quantities of hormones.

He doesn’t want to injure the Omega. He's just on edge, logic frayed with frustration, primal urges carrying far more sway than they should.

He feels a growl building in his chest, but when he opens his mouth he almost sobs. “Jihoon—I care about you so much. Please—I don’t want to hurt you. The only Omega I ever took to bed during a rut doesn’t speak to me anymore. I don’t think I could live if I did that to you.” He confesses truthfully.

Jihoon makes a tiny sound of distress, stepping closer. “What if you—use restraints and—I’ll just hang around. I’ll stay in the living room and keep an eye on you. Cheer you on. Feed you ramen with really long chopsticks.” Jihoon asks after allowing him a moment.

Eyes still closed, Seungcheol shakes his head.  Seungcheol is in his prime as an adult alpha. He’s ripped through restraints without an Omega in sniffing distance. Nothing could hold him back if he smelled Jihoon in the area. If he got a hold of him, no one would dare stop him. He'd kill anyone who tries.

“No Jihoonie. It’ll drive me insane, I’ll be able to smell you. The restraints wouldn’t stop me.”

Jihoon sighs and dips down to pick up his rucksack. “Fine. But—could you maybe—message me when you finish?” He murmurs.

His expression is tense and wretched; like he's on the verge of an apology when he hasn't quite worked out what he should be apologizing for.

Seungcheol can't stand seeming him like that.

He crosses the room and sets a hand on Jihoon's arm. “Of course.” He assures, and realizes too late that he's made a tactical error.

Because now he's  _touching_  Jihoon, and something bright and greedy snaps tight in his chest.

_Grab him—hold him down—fuck him, fuck him, fuck him._

He drops his hand to his side, fully intending to back away and control his frantically racing pulse. But his body defies his commands.

"Cheol—" Jihoon reaches for him, concerned, but Seungcheol intercepts and wraps strong fingers around Jihoon's wrist and squeezes. He actually feels the fine bones in Jihoon's wrist begin to grind together.

Jihoon instantly stills, and his pulse quickens fiercely beneath Seungcheol’s grip.

"Cheol?" Jihoon repeats in a similarly cautious tone. His posture is tense, but he makes no attempt to pull his wrist from Seungcheol's grasp, he just stares back with wide, confused eyes, clueless about the thoughts filling Seungcheol's head.

The look of almost fear on Jihoon’s face is enough to snap him back to focus. Seungcheol drops his grip, though he is breathing hard, his nostrils flared.

From here he has a magnified view of the startled brightness in Jihoon's eyes and the delicate fan of lashes against his cheeks. He sees Jihoon's eyebrows knit in confusion and thinks suddenly, what a beautiful mate he would make.

"I want—" Seungcheol starts to ask, but his throat tightens and won't let him finish. Jihoon is watching him with expectant curiosity, and Seungcheol swallows hard and forces himself to look away. He fights down the instinct roiling in his belly that wants him to shove Jihoon down and rut inside him until they both pass out.

"We’ll hang out later yeah?" he mutters, reaching around Jihoon to open the door—trying not to scent him as he does it.

"Okay." Jihoon shuffles reluctantly to the door, glancing back, concern etched across his delicate face.

“Maybe we can even have that slumber party.” Seungcheol says, laughing as Jihoon’s face scrunches in disapproval and he mumbles a petulant " _Shut up_!"

He’s still smiling when he closes the front door and cuts off the audible stream of Jihoon's grumbling voice.

Seungcheol can still smell Jihoon in the air after he leaves and his mouth waters with it, his own blood an edgy hum at how close he came to having a willing Omega spreading for him during his rut.

A thousand obscene images play out in his mind, and he isn’t sure he likes the person he is in any of them.

 

* * *

 

After Jihoon leaves, Seungcheol prepares himself.

He has a shower, takes his vitamins and has something to eat and drink.

Even though the rut increases his endurance, pushes trivial concerns like hunger and thirst to the background, he’s going to be restrained for the better part of the next 48 hours.

With the clock ticking down, he sits down to watch some television. After a while, he can barely follow along with what’s going on on-screen, which is another bad sign; his higher functions are shutting down and his capacity for judgment will soon follow suit.

Soon enough, he’ll be unable to think of anything other than fighting or fucking.

He finds himself standing in his bedroom, so overheated he can't remove his shirt quickly enough but the cool air against his skin bringing only scant relief.

He doesn’t remember switching of the TV or his journey down the corridor; things are becoming a bit fragmented in his mind again — like trying to stumble home after one too many drinks.

He straps into his restraints, and places the key in the bedside drawer just in reach before tightening the final clasp around his wrists. Even with the key so close, there will be little chance for him to get free; his dim, rutting mind won't put together the concept of key and lock.

He falls asleep soon enough and when he wakes an hour later, the rut hits him like a kick in the balls.

He feels... powerful. Muscle, vigour and bone all working together like a well-oiled machine. He moves to lift himself off the bed and finds he’s restrained.

Oh—yeah—he did that to himself. That seems like a different Seungcheol now.

Never mind. He’ll have those restrains off soon enough.

A delightful scent invades his nostrils and he sniffs the air to chase it.  

It smells like freshly cut fruit and vanilla, or something like it, and It’s close; a male Omega—sweet and soft and ripe for the taking.

He tugs at his restraints with more effort, mouth watering in anticipation. Then his bedroom door swings open and there he is.

“Hi Cheol.” The Omega whispers stepping carefully into the room.

Seungcheol lunges for him, jerking against the headboard. The metal restraints creak and groan, but hold.

The Omega shrugs his bag off his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. “I know what you said—but I just couldn’t go through with it. I stole the front door key when I was leaving earlier and let myself back in—you—I could smell you turning from outside.” He says, stepping over to the side of the bed.

Seungcheol makes to grab him, but his hands are pulled back by the short leash attached to the headboard. He growls his frustration, voice dark and distorted. 

The Omega laughs softly, one hand sliding up Seungcheol chest. "Look at you," he says, his dark eyes full of an emotion Seungcheol is too far gone to read. “You’re—really different like this, but I think we can do this.” He assures, taking a step back.

“I’m going to go shower and—prepare myself for you. Sit tight. Or—lie down tight. Basically don’t move okay—I’ll be back in a jiffy.” The Omega says as he turns to leave. He pauses at the foot of the bed and looks back again. “I’m glad you have memory loss and won’t remember me using the word ‘jiffy’”

Seungcheol growls and writhes in feral rage, dark hair sticking to his temples as he thrashes his head back and forth. But it’s no use. The Omega disappears into the bathroom and out of sight.

Seungcheol yanks on the cuffs sharply, trying to follow, but there is no give. Rage flares up within him, incandescent and he chokes off a scream, thrashing, pulling mindlessly like an animal caught in a trap.

There’s a sneaky, clever part of his brain reminding him there is a key to the restraints in the bedside table, but thought and reason are out of his grasp.

He fights the restraints, beating closed fists on the headboard, the wall. And the ire, the heat bubbling up in him is only growing brighter until he can't stand being in his own skin. With the scent of an Omega so close—yet with nothing to destroy, he sinks his teeth into the pillow and shreds it.

Something catches his attention. The Omega stepping out of the bathroom in a drift of steam, hair wet and dripping, plastered to his brow and a towel wrapped around his waist.

He watches, with sudden and deceptive calm as the Omega steps closer, reaching for Seungcheol’s hands which have somehow become bright red and slick.

The moment he is in range, Seungcheol twists and lunges at the Omega again, unsure if he wants to kill the Omega or fuck him or both.

The Omega withdraws, his eyes slightly wide, but that only incenses Seungcheol further. Fury and sex are only different sides of the same coin during rut.

The Omega's mouth moves, but Seungcheol is beyond parsing the words.

“I’m scared Cheol—but I trust you and, I know you’re not going to hurt me.” He murmurs, letting his towel drop to the floor.

He’s trembling as he climbs naked on the bed, inching himself closer to where Seungcheol’s hands are bound.

“I trust you.” The Omega says again as he reaches for the restraints.

Then there is a click and Seungcheol’s hands are free.

He’s on the Omega in a second, grabbing him, shoving him down on the mattress.

A voice, tiny and distant in his mind screams for him to stop, but Seungcheol braces one hand on the Omega’s hip with bruising intent, while his other hand disappears between his legs, fingers driving him open. The Omega makes a hurt sound, loud and breathy as Seungcheol shoves his fingers inside, satisfied to find him already slick and loose.

 _The shower_ , he thinks dimly, and shoves the Omega's leg up.

There is a flash of fear in the Omega’s eyes. The sight of it, the sound of his name, “Cheollie,” and the hand reaching out to cup his jaw —is enough to bring back some semblance of himself.

He pants, eyes dark and searching as he takes in the trembling, lithe form beneath him.

“Hoon.” he whispers, finally acknowledging the Omega he's pinning to the bed, recognising him.

 _His_ Omega.

He whines high in his throat, pressing close to inhale the scent of him. “Ji-hoon.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon whispers, cupping his chin, looking Seungcheol square in the eye. "It’s me. Welcome back.”

* * *

 

Seungcheol never remembers much during the worst of it. Occasionally flashes of pain and anger, bits of memory that would inevitably leave him melancholy and counting the days (dreading) until he had to be on watch for the next cycle.

This time, it's different.

Seungcheol recognizes Jihoon, but he knows he isn't quite firing on all cylinders. 

Coherent speech is beyond him and he isn't sure how it’s possible to feel so powerful and out of control and simultaneously calm at the same time. But with Jihoon pliant and willing underneath him—he isn’t anything but gentle.

Jihoon is an arching, moaning heat beneath Seungcheol’s hands; his head is thrown back, his lips parted on breathless sounds of pleasure.

There's something impatient and greedy in the stutter of his hips, the press of his heels at the small of Seungcheol’s back.

His pale thighs and pink slick hole are pure temptation beneath Seungcheol, and Seungcheol doesn’t resist the wordless plea in his eyes when their gazes lock.

He slides in carefully, fascinated by the response that flutters across Jihoon's face. Jihoon moans, clinging tightly to Seungcheol as his hips rise to meet his sinking cock, taking him deep and holding him close.

Seungcheol drops forward and groans into Jihoon's shoulder, overwhelmed. He draws his hips back, thrusts in again, jostles Jihoon further up the mattress. “Ahh—yes!”

He thrusts again, hard and deep. Jihoon's legs tighten around him, ankles locking at the small of Seungcheol's back, urging him on. “Come on—good boy—come on.”

Seungcheol speeds his pace. He curls one hand around Jihoon's hip for leverage, careful not to press bruises into vulnerable skin.

 _“Ahh—Cheol—yes!_ Goo _d_ boy!” Jihoon pants in his ear, as Seungcheol lifts and presses the lithe body against the headboard, hearing it thud again and again against the wall.

He kisses Jihoon, but it's rough and uncoordinated, unwilling to slow his pace as he claims Jihoon's pretty mouth.

They reach orgasm together, with wordless cries. Seungcheol buries his face against Jihoon's throat and loses himself in the white-hot rush of sensation.

“Oh fuck—yes! Fill me please!” Jihoon cries, eyes rolling up inside his head, mouth slack in ecstasy as Seungcheol buries himself to the hilt and starts to swell inside him.

Jihoon pants and squeezes tight and silk-smooth around him, small body eagerly milking his cock.

As his knot stops swelling, Seungcheol watches transfixed as Jihoon laps at the blood where the cuffs have chaffed his wrists, cleaning his wounds with tender licks.

“Naughty Alpha—getting all worked up and hurting yourself like this.” Jihoon tuts, pressing a kiss to the inside of Seungcheol’s wrist.

If Seungcheol had a tail—it would be thudding wildly against the bed in excitement.

As it is, he does not.

But it doesn’t stop him from scooping Jihoon into his arms and hugging the life out of him, even as the gesture tugs on his knot and makes them both hiss.

A sceptical part of his brain is telling him this isn’t real, that he’s imaging this—gentleness.

* * *

 

He’s so tame, he even lets Jihoon ride him, lets him take control and set the pace.

Laid out flat on the bed, he whimpers in excitement as Jihoon straddles him, rubbing up against his skin everywhere they touch, panting in his ear. “I want you inside me,” Jihoon whispers, rolling his hips in a way that rubs the slick cleft of his ass against Seungcheol’s cock. “Love it when I’m stretched around you Cheol.”

Seungcheol keens, steadies his hands on Jihoon’s hips as Jihoon grips the base of his cock and lowers himself down.

“Hoon,” he says, licking at Jihoon’s throat, sucking at the spot where his scent is strongest, overpowering.

When he bottoms out, Jihoon lets out a sound that is nearly a sob. “Ahh! So thick Cheollie—you feel so good!” He moans, lifting himself up again and sliding down on Seungcheol’s cock in one slow move.

Jihoon whimpers then, a pitiful sound as he lifts his hips and grinds down harder, and oh fuck, the look on Jihoon’s face when he throws his head back and starts riding him...

“Yes! Like this? You like this Cheollie? Of course you do! You’re doing so well.” Jihoon cheers breathlessly as he bounces on his lap.

He speeds up the rhythm of his hips, fucking himself on Seungcheol’s cock with resounding wet slaps and spread thighs, pale and sticky from cum leaking out.

Seungcheol’s hands smooth over the flat, slim stomach above him, nails scraping over the small point of a nipple, and Jihoon hums dazedly. Hips rolling up, fluid and easy as he takes Seungcheol into the tight clutch of his body over and over.

Jihoon lets his head loll back, baring his throat, floating gloriously on the fine edge of overstimulation and pleasure. _“Ohh—Cheol—Oh_ fuck.” Jihoon moans, hands reaching out to grasp what they can. Seungcheol finds himself reaching back, interlacing their fingers and helping Jihoon ride it out.

“Fill me....fill me—fillme!” Jihoon screams.

Seungcheol doesn’t reply— _can’t_. He just grunts as the base of his cock flares and stretches Jihoon again, arches up and offers up his mouth for kisses.

* * *

 

“You want to go again?” Jihoon coos, low, threading his hand through Seungcheol’s hair.

Seungcheol nods, making tiny yipping sounds in the back of his throat as nuzzles into Jihoon’s neck. He whines, scenting the slick fluid building between Jihoon’s legs, fucking his thighs like he can’t wait long enough to get inside him properly.

His hard cock slots in between Jihoon's thighs, he drops kisses on his sharp shoulders as Jihoon reaches down to angle him in.

“Yeah—yes—C’mon.” Jihoon gasps, winding his legs around Seungcheol’s waist as he works himself in deeper.

“Good, so good Cheollie. Such a good Alpha—taking care of me so well.” Jihoon breathes at his ear as Seungcheol’s touches rove lower—pinching at Jihoon’s nipples, cupping his balls, playing over the firm length of his prick.

Jihoon in turn, showers him in kisses and praises and pleas not to hold back.

“C’mon baby. We have a record to beat and I know you have it in you.” He pants, matching Seungcheol’s pace with delicious rolls of his slim hips.

Seungcheol groans, wrapping one arm around under Jihoon to hitch him higher and angle his thrusts downwards against the sensitive parts of him that make him sob and cry and beg.

When Jihoon finally climaxes, he’s groaning Seungcheol’s name, but Seungcheol isn’t finished yet.

He splays his hand over Jihoon’s belly. The flat plane of his stomach has given way to a soft roundness, he’s been knotted and filled so many times. Seungcheol shivers, rubbing more purposefully at Jihoon’s belly.

“Cheol.” The sound of Jihoon’s voice cuts through the haze as his cock throbs and swells, locking him deep inside. “Ah—yes,” he murmurs, thighs trembling.

“Knot me—fill me, I want more.” Jihoon pants, reaching down to cup and squeeze Seungcheol’s balls. He writhes against the knot, and Seungcheol tries to hold him steady even as his orgasm rolls over him.

Jihoon wails for him, begs and bends and comes all over again, tightening around him and fisting the sheets until he’s rucked them off the corners of the bed.

* * *

 

As he’s about to knot Jihoon for the final time, when he remembers something he’s always wanted to do, and instinct kicks in. It’s enough to still himself for a moment and pull back, taking himself in hand instead.

Jihoon huffs in frustration. “Cheol—what are you doing?“

Seungcheol grunts in reply. A few pulls of his cock and he’s coming, making a mess of Jihoon's stomach.

Jihoon makes a small sound of surprise, propping himself up on his elbows as Seungcheol continues to spurt thick and hot cum over his belly and chest.

“You little pervert.” Jihoon chuckles, getting a beautifully dazed look in his eyes. “Are you trying to mark me? Make me smell of you?”

Seungcheol huffs through his nose, focused on his task of trying to.... drown Jihoon in his cum apparently.

When he’s finished, he lazily smears the tip of his cock across Jihoon’s belly, smearing the mess below his navel.

When he looks up, Jihoon’s watching him with hooded eyes. “Message received Cheol. I’m yours.” He whispers, something contented in his voice. Something that says there's no question at all, and Seungcheol realizes it's true.

As if to prove it, Jihoon reaches down with both hands and begins massaging the cum on his skin, impressing Seungcheol’s scent.

Seungcheol growls softly, eyes thinning with pleasure as he watches. Somehow it seems more indecent than anything that's happened thus far, but Jihoon shows no reservations about doing it, even dragging a finger through the excess cum and licking it clean.

 _"Hmm-cheol."_ He moans, slowly withdrawing the finger from between his lips.

Seungcheol gives a pleased little groan, and shifts on the bed to curl around Jihoon, pulling him back against his chest.

This omega is _his_ and he needs to smell like Seungcheol so he can protect him.

“You’re not going to let me wash up are you?” Jihoon pants.

Seungcheol snuffles into the bend of his neck and Jihoon sighs; the tightening of his arms around the Omega's waist his only answer.

Jihoon laughs breathlessly. “Fine, but RIP your bedsheets.”

* * *

 

The first thing that blurrily comes into focus for Seungcheol, are his restraints.

They’re dangling down the back of the headboard, key still fitted in the lock.

There is a t-shirt thrown over the chair, far too small to be his.

And there's two very prominent dents in the wall behind the bedposts.

He feels awesome. Stiff, exhausted, hungry—but _awesome._

His stomach grumbles and he rubs a hand down his face, feeling at least three days worth of stubble. 

He is just about to get out of bed and hunt for food when the door swings open, and Jihoon pads into the bedroom with a glass of water, looking lovely wearing a tiny pair of shorts and one of Seungcheol’s t-shirts.

Seungcheol thought he was used to muffling the instincts that demand he keep Jihoon safe and naked and somewhere far out of harm’s way, but the way he is now, dressed in Seungcheol’s shirt and smelling of him, makes them burn a hundred times hotter.

“Sup.” Jihoon greets.

“Sup.” Seungcheol’s voice comes out rusty with disuse.

Jihoon hands him a glass of water and he drinks it, even though he isn't thirsty.

“How are you feeling? _Do_ — _you_ —remember anything?” Jihoon asks tentatively.

“Yeah—I remember it all.” It must be the fading effects of the hormones that make tears prick behind his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” He asks carefully.

He's stares at the empty glass in his hand. Possibly because he's afraid to look anywhere else. That's pretty much ruined when a warm hand grips his jaw and turns it sideways - and then he's looking into the very soft eyes of Jihoon.

“No— _you didn’t._ You were really— _gentle_. Can’t you remember that?” Jihoon asks softly.

Seungcheol wipes the back of his hand over his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t dreamt it.”

Jihoon’s face does a meaningful sort of scrunch and he shakes his head emphatically. “You didn’t. You were amazing.”

“Thanks.” Seungcheol exhales in relief, feeling every wall crumbling away between them.

Jihoon fetches him another glass of water, insists he drink it.

Then when Seungcheol’s stomach emits a loud gurgle, he leaves and comes back with a huge bowl of ramen and looks sort of accomplished, proud and worried at the same time as Seungcheol wolfs it down in under two minutes.

Seungcheol can see something else in his eyes; he’s  _nervous_ , expression open and unsure as he waits on Seungcheol to tell him what to do.

“What’s wrong Jihoonie?” Seungcheol asks.

“Nothing.” Jihoon says quickly, too quickly, hovering uncertainly at the foot of the bed as Seungcheol stretches out his muscles.

“ _Jihoon_.” Seungcheol intones, giving him a knowing look.

Jihoon pouts thoughtfully and looks away, scuffing his toe against the carpet.  “I was just wondering why you didn’t experience the same memory loss as before.” He asks and it takes Seungcheol a second to pick up the momentarily discarded train of their previous conversation.

“Guess I recognised you—and maybe knowing that we’ve been intimate before, and knowing how willing you were, tamed me somehow.” He offers. It's a partial explanation, he knows why.

”Yeah—you were pretty tame. Do you remember jizzing all over me and not letting me wash it off?” Jihoon asks. He's teasing, but it's a thinly crafted front that does nothing to conceal how anxious he is.

Seungcheol raises his eyes sharply at the question, catches Jihoon in a pinning stare. “I remember you helping me rub it in.” He says, sidestepping the question and diving in for the kill.

Jihoon flushes red right up to his ears and ducks his head.

Seungcheol could break the silence, but he waits it out instead. Watches fascinated as Jihoon's mouth opens and closes while no sound comes out. He waits until Jihoon finally, with slow reluctance, raises his eyes to meet Seungcheol's.

“Well—you were very _insistent_. Very _whiny_. And that’s hard to say no to, Cheol.”

Seungcheol suppresses the urge to scoff. “Well, thank you for indulging me then.” He drawls, flinging the covers off and standing in search of his clothes.

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Jihoon interjects quickly, resting a palm on his chest to keep him in place. He reaches up to tuck a lock of Seungcheol’s hair behind his ear. “It’s not like—“ Jihoon pauses, and Seungcheol sees him hesitate, like he terrified of saying the wrong thing. “It’s not like I _didn’t_ want it.”

Seungcheol quirks an amused brow. “Oh Yeah?”

Jihoon’s back to pouting thoughtfully again, still flushed. “I’ve been thinking— _about us._ And—we help each other out with our cycles and that great, but—I don’t see _why_ we shouldn’t see each other more _outside_ of that. Like, more than we already do. So I was _thinking_ —like _maybe_ —if you _wanted_ to—it’s up to _you_ —“

Seungcheol kisses him before he can finish the question, taking Jihoon's face in his hands and leaning down to press his lips to Jihoon’s startled mouth. Jihoon swears in surprise, right into the kiss, then opens up for him, warm and eager and encouraging. His lips part beneath Seungcheol's, his tongue the barest, teasing hint of contact along Seungcheol's lower lip, his hands sliding into the messy fringe of Seungcheol's hair and then along his back to pull him closer.

Seungcheol accepts every invitation, his own hands leaving Jihoon's face to slide in exploring paths down his Omega’s body. He groans into Jihoon's mouth and holds him close and doesn't pull back until they're both breathing in hard, gasping pants.

" _Fuck_ ," Jihoon whispers when they finally separate, still so close that Seungcheol feels the words ghost across his own kiss-slick lips. They're still wrapped around each other, arms and hands holding tight as they breathe each other's air, and Seungcheol doesn't want to let go.

“Jihoon, I _want_ to be your boyfriend. I _want_ us to start dating and I _want_ us to have sex outside of your heat.” Seungcheol says, as clearly and distinctly as he can.

Jihoon smiles, thumbing Seungcheol’s lower lip. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) TwoGeeseHearts asked for a sequel with Seungcheol's rut, and they always leaves me lovely motivational comments :) Hope this was satisfying, buddy! (づ￣ ³￣)づ  
> 2) SOFT ALPHA SEUNGCHEOL ಠ_ಥ  
> 3) I can imagine Jihoon taming him, that he could pull him out of rut induced rage cause Cheol is so very soft for him ಠ_ಥ  
> 4) Maybe he's such a tame alpha he would.....consider experimenting with a change in positions....a switch ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°) ...ohohohohoho!  
> 5) Hope you enjoy reading :)  
> Feedback always appreciated  
> (｡◕‿◕｡)


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